Deadly Sin's
by beingzen
Summary: An attack on Sinbad's life turns bloody at the hands of his two most beloved assassins.


A.N.: The title is not a grammar mistake I assure you. I hope you can understand the word play I am trying to make by reading the text.

I do admit there will likely be a far few mistakes. Do feel free to point them out to me. Thanks.

The palace in Sindria was a wonderful building. It was located in a warm island that allowed it to have wide and tall open arches for windows with large verandas. The sheer white curtains all but fluttering in the night breeze as the king stepped lightly into his chambers, discarding his clothes as he walked towards the bed, eager to lie on the soft cotton fabric alongside both his lovers Ja'far and Judi. They were awake, of course. Never mind the fact that Sinbad didn't make a sound, both white haired teens were ex-assassins with the senses of wild felines. They shifted in bed with the grace of the aforementioned cats, sleepy from a long day of work, looking at him as he approached them.

The glint in their eyes was out of place in the lazy relaxed picture both their bodies painted, sprawled on the bed with their limbs sticking out from under the white cotton of the sheets and their night gowns.

Sinbad knelt down on the soft mattress thinking longingly of the moment his body would unwind, a moment that seemed to have been postponed by whatever threat his lovers had detected in the warm breeze that filtered into his chambers through the curtains. He crossed over Ja'far and kissed his temple tenderly with his eyes closed before turning to Judi with the intent of doing the same, but as he looked up from the pale body already in his arms, he heard the deadly metal hiss of a dagger being thrown mere centimetres away from his face. The weapon flew past his head swiftly in the blink of a second and found its target camouflaged in the shadows cast by the moonlight. Said target fell dead before his breath could leave him.

The falling of the body was an improvised sign for more intruders to show themselves as they rappelled onto the wide veranda. In an instant both Ja'far and Judi were standing in front of the bed, weapons at the ready, poised like tigers with their steely eyes fixed on their prey ready to kill whoever dared threat Sinbad, their stances tempered with the spilled blood of countless enemies fallen victim to the white clad teenagers.

The air was thick with blood lust as all assassins and ex-assassins measured their enemy. On one side there were many armed figures dressed in black, barring the way to the veranda where many others were jumping from to get to other parts of the palace in complete silence. On the other side two young teenagers wielding daggers and scimitars, wearing white night gowns that flowed in the night breeze, defending their King and lover.

Sinbad watched them as he yawned from the bed trying to decide if he should interfere or just leave the matter to the more than capable population of his castle. He'd have to come up with some sort of system to alert everyone of intruders before they could make it as far as these had.

The assassins all moved in one charged millisecond, just as the silent killers had all had climbed over the veranda. Had Sinbad not been a very powerful fighter himself he would have completely missed what was happening, but as it was, he could see, albeit a bit blurred, all the movements of the fight, none wasted. The powerful strikes of metal against metal composed the soundtrack to the blood that rained upon the pristine curtains and the clothes of his lovers and Sinbad admired them as they moved, evaluated their perfected teamwork like a synchronised dance repeated countless dangerous times over the years. Theirs bodies moved on powerful muscles, agile and flexible, twisting and turning in ways that would incapacitate the untrained, moving as fast as their brains could think.

But in their deadly waltz, both white haired assassins failed to notice the shine of a needle projectile being thrown from a distance with the precision of a surgeon and neither did Sinbad. Not until his own white night clothes were stained with the few drops of red his muscular chest allowed to flow out of the superficial wound. And he could have laughed really, at the lack of power behind the strike, had they all not realised the needle wasn't intended to pierce any further than the venom could seep into the blood that fed the cells of the body, paralysing them.

Ja'far and Judi kept fighting, as if nothing had happened to the untrained eyes if you were just about anybody, but as he felt his body rapidly stopping all movement, Sinbad could see their desperation. He saw the look Judi gave Ja'far, clear as day that she was going to take Sinbad away to deal with the poison. In less than a second, Sinbad's eyes weren't looking at Ja'far anymore, but at the marble floor of the palace's wide hallways.

Judi was swift. She made it to her study in record time, pulled the needle out of Sinbad's chest and licked it, making a surprised face before wiping the blood from her hands clumsily on her gown, not to clean it, but to avoid letting things slip. Sinbad had seen her work only a handful of times, every single one more mesmerising than the last as he could witness the transformations of seemingly harmless herbs into deadly poisons or life saving antidotes. The white haired teenager rushed about her many vials, smelling them and tasting them and adding ingredients from jars full of questionable substances. Very shortly, when Sinbad's breathing had slowed down to a whisper, Judi stabbed his chest with another needle, deeper this time, painfully, all the way to his heart. This needle was hollow and blood gushed from it in thin spurts, but Judi's steady hands were fast and covered it with a thin vial, full of the freshly prepared concoction. This vial had a cork on the bottom end, one she pulled out to blow the antidote into the needle and straight into Sinbad's heart.

The pain spread from his chest to every end of his body as fast as his blood could travel. The antidote felt like thick burning lava stretching and scorching his veins, cleansing them and jump starting all his nerves and muscles. When his throat could function again Sinbad released a scream like he'd never screamed before in his life. A scream of pure, red, blinding agony that drowned the faintly breathed apologies and whispers Judi's lips feebly offered. As quickly as his throat had been freed, so did Sinbad's arms and legs and he would have started writhing in pain, scratching at his own body to try and claw his own blood out, but Judi held him down, with great effort.

Sinbad's screams attracted the attention of other residents of the palace who had finished their fights. One such man was Hinahoho whose presence Judi was endlessly grateful for as he gently but firmly held down their beloved king without question, avoiding the needle and vial, now capped and full of dark blood, the only thing keeping Sinbad from bleeding out of his heart, that saved his life, and that could just as easily take it away.

Judi's only solution.

Seconds ticked away like hours yet the world seemed to freeze and only when Sinbad's screams turned to hoarse pants and Hinahoho cautiously let go of his hold on him, did Judi turned to look at the entrance to her study where the rest of the generals stared horrified at the scene of their King laying on a table with a thick needle sticking out of his chest and a vial full of his blood and Judi, covered in blood holding him down along a very tense and clearly confused Hinahoho.

Judi opened and closed her mouth to try and explain, but no sound came out of her lips. The only sound to be heard was the rustle of clothes as Ja'far pushed his way in between the people blocking the view of his most beloved King. Once his cold silver eyes lay on him, Ja'far stopped dead in his tracks, horror and understanding transforming his already angry expression into one of pure unadulterated ire. He took a second to inhale deeply…and then exhale. As the air left his lips, so did his blood lust, making everyone in the room recoil physically as if burned by it.

Without a word, Ja'far was out of the room and all eyes followed him as he disappeared into the night, leaving an invisible mist of death behind.

'J-Judi…' Sinbad called her through the sandpaper in his vocal chords. Judi nodded at him and turned to the generals.

'Yam…please…' She begged the mage and the blue haired teenager promptly moved towards the King and inspected the wound caused by Judi's rough treatment.

Judi was gone before anyone could understand what was happening.

Following Ja'far wasn't at all hard when he was on a rampage. The pure smell of death he emanated made even Judi's skin prickle. That and the bodies of their enemies, bleeding with their eyes frozen in fear, scattered around like breadcrumbs at the mercy of famished pigeons.

She found him as he mercilessly slit the throat of an assassin open after said man revealed some information to him, another terror stricken face to join the countless others on the blood covered marble floor. The arterial spurt of blood stained Ja'far's porcelain skin and his snow hair crimson. The hallway they were at was open to a square flower garden where in happier times they had basked under the sunshine for long hours. Now, the pale shine of the full moon illuminated the blood that stained the lush grass as it fell like waterfalls from the marble edges of the corridor. Ja'far he turned to Judi with hard sharp mercurial eyes, his pupils constricted into slits, ferocious, the perfect image of their previous occupation and Judi felt the thrill and the thirst and lust to fight him, to fight alongside him and to draw blood.

Ja'far turned around to leave her behind in his quest for revenge, for payment for the crime of injuring the King and Judi was intent on following, yet as fast as her legs' muscles twitched to carry out the movement, Judi found herself with a silver dagger, covered in crimson blood on her throat, her back to the hard marble wall and a pale hand, more bloody than any other part of Ja'far's body, slammed the wall right next to her head, cracking it all the way to the ceiling.

Yet Judi didn't flinch. She looked into the eyes of her beloved, serious, with as much cold calculation as him and her hand holding her scimitar next to her body, the sharp point touching the pale ripe stomach underneath the wet stained fabric of Ja'far's night gown, both their bare feet making ripples on the red surface of the blood.

'I am going to wipe out the miserable scum that sent this attack.' Ja'far said with gleaming eyes and a murderous expression accentuated by the shadows of the marble pillars behind them.

'Of course you are.' Judi responded in a similar fashion, her golden eyes mirroring Ja'far's and reflecting him. 'And I'm coming with you.'

Judi watched Ja'far's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and licked his lips, pondering over the proposition, knowing Judi wanted revenge just as much as he did, feeling her blood lust mixing with his in smoky tendrils like a delicate cocktail. Then he kissed her blood stained lips, harshly, all teeth, desperate, pressing against her, forcing her weapon away at the same time he removed his completely and finally dragging her lower lip roughly between his teeth as he ended the kiss.

'Let's go…'

'Ja'far!'

The pair stopped in their tracks, frozen at the firm commanding yet still hoarse voice of their most beloved King. They turned around to see Sinbad standing tall and imposing at the end of the corridor, his also bare feet inches away from the massive, thick pool of blood they had both been standing on and his hand rested on the bandage wrapped tight around his chest, stained yellow and green with medicine.

Behind Sinbad, way behind, hiding at the turn of the corridor, peeking with bright blue terrified eyes was Yamuraiha, panting form fear. The mage watched as he King approached the two teenagers standing tense like predators in the centre of the biggest pool of blood she's ever seen in her life, splashed with blood from head to toe, barefoot, armed and deadly. Their eyes were fixed on the King's every step through the red thick liquid, shining like the eyes of beasts, hard with rage and killing intent, measuring Sinbad as if he was their tamer. And she couldn't suppress the intense full body shiver that raked her young body in that instant, afraid of the two teenagers, afraid for her King…afraid of her King, for as the taller man stopped right in front of the two smaller ones with open arms, they lowered their heads and hugged him as gently as lovers…afraid of her King as the master of such creatures whose aura and blood lust coiled around her, filling the entire corridor with death…

Then, as gently as they'd been holding Sinbad, Ja'far and Judi disappeared, like illusions dispersed by the moonlight as it flickered through thin clouds and cast eerie shadows all across Sinbad's face. The King turned back in the same corridor, sighed in pain at his injury and Yamuraiha's legs finally gave out under her. She slid down the wall and to the floor in an ungraceful heap of clothes, adrenaline and fear, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. She watched in horrified silence as Hinahoho stepped around her to help the King walk, not realising she hadn't been alone in the first place and she let the strong scaled arms of Drakon scoop her gently and carry her behind the silent procession of her King.

When she finally found her voice over a cup of tea prepared by lady Sahel, she inquired as to where had Ja'far and Judi gone.

'Perhaps it's better that you don't know.' was the cryptic answer she received. One she believed vehemently once her mind conjured the previous scene as vividly as a nightmare.

Two heavy, tall as life wooden doors were violently kicked open in a large mess hall, peppered with tables and stools, letting a strong gust of wind inside that made all torches flicker. The occupants of the room all fell silent and looked at the disturbance, their weapons ready to be drawn, invisible to just anyone's eyes. Yet Ja'far and Judi weren't just anyone and Ja'far sneered at them, looking at the lot from the top of his nose with eyes wide and pupils narrowed, his cruel smirk and the blood on his body painted him in insanity. The assassins in the hall stood up to kill the two intruders, but the moment their legs were fully extended, their bodies were already dead as the two teenage assassins rushed like sharp gusts of wind, killing everyone.

At the end of the mess hall sat a small man, old and bald, with as many scars as the young assassins had in his uncovered arms and legs. He parried Ja'far's dagger successfully and avoided Judi's scimitars by the width of a strand of hair.

'Who the hell are you two!?' the man demanded, taking up a tense stance, ready for a serious fight.

'You hear that Ja'far? He doesn't remember us.' Judi goaded with a venomous voice.

'I should feel offended.' Ja'far sneered again as he looked at the man in front of him, measuring him and concluding that if he was strong, he was a good actor.

'Who the FUCK are you two?!' the man shouted at them, saliva dripping the floor at his feet.

Ja'far stepped up to him, confident, avoiding every single strike without even raising a blade and glowering. Weak.

'You are disgusting.' Ja'far glowered and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying against the opposite wall.

The man crawled on his hands and knees, heaving and coughing, trying to regain his breath, but Ja'far wouldn't have that. He threw his daggers at the man, the crimson wires tangling up on his wrists until the silver sharp weapons found purchase in the flesh of the man's wrists and pulled. The man flew back to his previous position, laying on the floor and panting for breath. He had the thought to stand up and use Ja'far's weapon against him, but at the minimum flinch of muscle, Judi pounced and buried her scimitars on the man's calves, piercing them until the blades hit the floor.

'Are you the boss of this organisation?' Ja'far asked, stepping on one of his own daggers and burying it deeper on the man's flesh. The man's eyes looked defiantly from Ja'far's insane eyes to Judi as she licked the blood from her lips and recognition finally flashed through his eyes.

'There is no boss here.' He told Ja'far with a wide smirk. 'But you know that already…'

Ja'far grinned manically and snorted.

'Ah…we do.'

The next sunrise found the mess hall burned to the ground, nothing left but charred stone and ash to the eyes of the sorcerer that travelled there to collect the head of the King promised to her. All around the black remains were the bodies of the assassins who operated from there, relieved of their heads. Those were speared in a line at the very front, all the faces caked in flaking blood and, at the very centre, sitting against a stake was a short, naked, scarred, mutilated, bald man, relieved of both his arms and legs, laughing as crows cawed all around him, feasting, nibbling at the bloody stumps of hid thighs.

The man looked up at the sorcerer with a wide grin and bloodshot eyes.

'The King is untouchable…untouchable!' He shouted. 'The King is untouchable! The King is untouchable! The King is untouchable! He is untouchable! Untouchable! The King is Unt-!'

With a heavy thud and a sharp gush of blood, the man's head was severed from his body, bathing the unfortunate hungry crow in red.

The sorcerer turned silently away, but the murder of crows was scared away by the mere touch of her murderous intent. A single name on her lips: 'Sinbad!'

The sun rising in the palace of Sindria was a lovely moment for all its inhabitants for the air was full of birdsong and warm breezes that blew past white sheer curtains. The rays of light hitting the insides of the rooms and the occupants of the beds in the morning, warming their bodies through white cotton sheets served at the perfect wake up call, serene, safe.

Laying amidst white sheets was the King of Sindria, stirring awake and stretching his body with a heavy sigh, his arms full with his two white haired lovers, both awake and peppering him and each other in light kisses wherever there was skin to reach, lips stretched into smiles, lazy and content, hands wandering, caressing places they mapped during dark hours under moonlight.

The world wasn't yet calling and such divagations could be indulged for a while as caresses turned to passion and fervour and the sound of birdsong was ignored and drowned by heavy respiration and chants of names, by the wet slick sounds of bodies coming together and undone until a bath was necessary for a decent start of the day to come and the King could meet his people outside, blissfully unaware of the secrets of the night and morning.

And if anything more than a crimson nightmare could be remembered, it certainly wouldn't make it past the twilight hours where both the sun and the moon slept and the starlight was veiled in soft purple light.

Yamuraiha would certainly never forget the sight of death her nightmare showed her. Yet her caution would soon turn to trust, enabled by time and kindness and smiles so bright they lit twilight into morning.


End file.
